


Fever Dreams

by RemyJane



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: College, Flu, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Matt Taking Care of Foggy, Mostly Fluff, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 08:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4383938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemyJane/pseuds/RemyJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt takes care of Foggy when he gets the flu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops. I accidently wrote more Foggy!Whump. I just really love this dynamic, something that they didn't really explore in the show. Matt is so protective over his friends, he must have always been like that, especially with Foggy, his nearest and dearest friend. 
> 
> I can't believe we have to wait until next year for season 2. :-/

Blustery air followed him into the dorm building as the automated door closed slowly behind him, buffeted by the wind. It smelled particularly cold, and he could tell that snowflakes were starting to fall. They hadn’t started accumulating but the local meteorologists were already declaring the nor’easter to be one for the record books. 

Matt had made sure they were stocked up on canned goods, pasta, and bottled water. Foggy had supplied the frozen pizzas, alcohol, and chips. 

They had their bases covered.

Matt fully expected music and booze when he returned to their shared abode, but it was quiet as he dug his keys out of his pocket. He could hear Foggy’s heartbeat, steady like he was laying down but not asleep yet.

“Hey.” His voice was slightly hoarse as Matt slipped in. Touching the lightswitch, he found it to be off. “Finish your paper?”

“Yeah.” Matt dropped his backpack down onto his desk. “You?” 

“Uh huh. Yeah…” He sighed. “I was half a page short, so I had to make some stuff up.” Weariness permeated his tone, not the usual excitement he typically exuded. 

“Well, you’re good at that, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Matt chuckled. He couldn’t hear the hum of Foggy’s computer or any chirping from his phone. “You ok? We’re on the brink of, like, two feet of snow. I thought you’d be more excited.”

Foggy scrubbed at his face with his hands. “I know, I’m just...I’m really tired.” He exhaled heavily. “We can start on the alcohol tomorrow, yeah?” He rolled over to face Matt, pulling up the throw blanket at the foot of his bed.

“Yeah, buddy, that sounds good.” Matt settled in with one of his textbooks as Foggy clicked out the lamp and dropped off to sleep quite quickly.

***

In the middle of the night, Matt woke up to the sounds of the drunken laughter upstairs. He tried to tune it out, instead focusing on Foggy’s heartbeat like he did every night when he couldn’t sleep. Instead of the slow beat he’d grown to know, it was a racing thumping from Foggy’s bed.

Matt frowned. Foggy’s breathing sounded a little raspy and congested, he’d been nursing what seemed like the beginning of a cold for the last two days. 

He fell back to sleep as his concern melted away.

***

“Matt?” Foggy coughed. “You awake, buddy?”

“Huh?” Matt rolled over, sitting up slowly. “Yeah, I’m up. What’s up?”

“Do you have...Tylenol or something?” He turned away when he coughed.

“Yeah, in my desk drawer. On the right.” He heard Foggy fumbling around in his desk before opening the pill bottle and swallowing with a gulp of water. “You ok?”

“I just have a headache, that’s all.” His heart rate ticked faster as he lied. Listening carefully, Matt estimated his heart was beating about 100 beats per minute. Foggy shuffled around the room a bit before collapsing back onto his bed. 

Matt waited for a few minutes before getting up. He poured himself some cereal, scanning his fingers across his refreshing keyboard. 

“It’s snowing still?” He asked. He could hear the soft sound of flakes falling by the window if he listened carefully, but he could hardly pull the sound to the front of his mind. 

“Uhhhh, yeah.” Foggy had sat up to peer outside. “Shit. There’s a lot out there already. Like...maybe six inches?”

“Wow.” Matt responded, taking a bite of his breakfast, eyebrows raising as he read his email. “Maculoso cancelled class today.”

“I figured. He’s one slip away from a broken hip on a good day.” Matt laughed, feeling a little guilty. “Hopefully Atterbury will too.” Foggy coughed, hacking into his elbow before uncurling with a groan.

“You ok?” Matt asked again.

“Just...I guess I have a cold or something. I feel shitty.” He admitted. 

“That sucks.” Matt sympathized. “Do we have any juice?”

“None without vodka in it…” Foggy grumbled, curling up under his blankets. Matt smirked.

“I could see if the caf has any.” 

“Nah, I’m ok. I just need to sleep some more and then I’ll be fine.”

***

Matt studied intermittently all morning, keeping one ear trained on Foggy’s increasingly ragged breathing. 

By 10:30AM, the campus had been completely shut down due to the continued heavy snow. The winds were picking up outside, whipping ice and snow against their window. Matt was glad he didn’t have to go out in it.

“Wh’time’sit?” Foggy slurred, coughing into his pillow. 

“Almost 11:00. You want some soup or something?” 

“Yeah...Soup sounds good.” He started to push himself up but Matt grabbed his arm to stop him. 

“I’ve got it, I- You’ve got a fever.”

He pressed his hand to Foggy’s cheek, feeling the heat radiated off of him. Foggy leaned into Matt’s comparatively cool hand, eyelashes brushing his fingertips when he closed his eyes. Matt’s cheeks flushed and he quickly moved his hand to his forehead, pressing the back against it in a less intimate way. 

“Mmmm.” Foggy nodded, slumping against the wall. “Sorry. We were suppose to have a very drunk couple of snow days. Not you having to deal with me like this.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Matt said, fetching a can of chicken noodle soup and setting about opening it with the automatic can opener Foggy’s mother had sent them in her last care package. It whirrrred around the edge until it popped off and allowed Matt to transfer the soup to a bowl and set it in the microwave.

“I could just drink screwdrivers, it’s basically just orange juice.” Matt could hear the smile in Foggy’s voice and he laughed. Once the soup was heated he carefully passed it to Foggy, handing him the spoon as well.

“I don’t think that’ll help as much as you’d hope.” 

“Ah, well, who knows? Might be worth a try.” Foggy joked good naturedly, slurping on a spoonful of soup. “You know, it’s not as good as my mom’s but...I also don’t have to deal with her fussing about me getting sick. Which, probably makes it better.”

“She can’t be that bad.” Matt said mildly, if only to get a reaction.

“You’ve met her! She’s wonderful, but she’s a touch crazy. I love her anyways.” Matt laughed.

***

Foggy drifted off not long after the soup was finished, still holding the empty bowl balanced on his stomach. Matt gently took it away from him and rinsed it out.

It was late afternoon when he woke up again. His return to consciousness was signalled with a light groan. Matt could hear his heart racing. 

“Do ya’wanna turn on the TV or something?” Foggy asked, sitting up stiffly. 

“What do you wanna watch?”

“I don’ know...there’s a lot of stand up on netflix, let’s watch that.” Foggy yawned around his words. Matt rolled his chair closer to Foggy’s bed, the only place with a clear view of the TV; not that Matt needed one, but they always sat together.

“You’re hot.” He mumbled, pressing a hand to his arm.

“I keep telling you that.”

“No, I mean-” Matt blushed. “I mean, I think your fever is higher.”

“Suuuuree.” Foggy grinned.

“Do you have a thermometer?” Matt asked, ignoring him and standing up to begin searching Foggy’s desk.

“That box my mom sent...that should have one. It’s in a hard plastic case.” Matt found it easily, though he pretended it took a little bit longer. 

Foggy accepted the thermometer without protest; he might’ve been sicker than Matt guessed. After about 30 seconds, the device beeped.

“What’s it say?”

“Uhhh...100.5. Not too bad.” Foggy lied. Even without hearing his quickened pulse, Matt would’ve known he was wasn’t telling the truth. Foggy was endearingly bad at lying to him- or anyone, actually.

He snorted. “What is it really?”

“104.5” Foggy mumbled, like he hoped Matt wouldn’t hear and would just forget about it or something. Which was ridiculous, and also not happening.

“Jesus. Here, hold on, take some more tylenol.” Foggy was obedient and took the medicine without any objections. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit.” He sighed, sagging against the backboard. Matt waited. “Head hurts, chest hurts, cough...cold, like freezing cold.”

“Sounds like the flu. But didn’t you get a flu shot?”

“Oh, you’re a doctor now too, great.” Foggy whined, burrowing down into his bedding. “I...meant to get the shot, I did. I just...didn’t have time.” 

“You made me get it.” Matt pointed out.

“I know, I know, but...Dude, you’re already blind. I couldn’t handle any additional woundedness on top the whole wounded handsome duck thing. I’m not that strong.” Matt shook his head, trying not to smile. 

“Basically, you’re saying you didn’t want to take care of a sick, blind guy? Real nice, Foggy.” Matt teased. 

Foggy laughed, which turned into a coughing fit. He sat up straighter, trying to breathe. Matt rubbed his back, tentatively at first and then gaining in certainty as he felt the muscles under his hand start to relax. Foggy’s thin t-shirt stuck to him, damp and clingy in the places it had been pressed against him.

“That’s not...what I meant.” Foggy managed, sucking in a rattling breath. 

***

Matt made Foggy take his temperature again an hour later, panicking a bit inside when the numbers hadn’t changed.

“It’s not a big deal. I use t’ spike fevers as a kid when I was sick too. Scared th’ hell out of my mom.” Foggy mumbled, words muffled where his face was pressed against the pillow.

“It’s just...there’s like a foot of snow out there. I doubt we can call a cab.” 

“Wha’ would we need a cab for?” 

“To take you to the hospital.” Matt told him, stopping his pacing to tug the blankets away. “You need to cool down. These aren’t helping.” 

“Nelson’s...don’t go to hospitals. ‘cept for having babies.” He recited. “Or that one time when I got the shit kicked outta me in elementary...I had to get stitches.”

“Who beats up a kid?”

“Bigger, meaner kids.” Foggy puffed, coughing a bit again. “I was in second grade. Mouthed off to a fifth grader on the playground.” He shivered and tried to grab for the blankets again. Matt caught his hand, struck by how hot Foggy’s palms were. He held on a little longer than necessary before he realized what he was doing and let go. His hands felt too cold afterwards.

“Can’t imagine you mouthing off.” Matt teased, worry creeping into his tone.

***

By dinner time, the local news reported that they’d received 13 inches of snow and there was more on the way. Foggy’s fever was climbing gradually higher, creeping closer and closer to 105. 

“Drink some water.” Matt pressed the water bottle into his hands. It was actually his, but Foggy had lost his own earlier that week, and Matt knew he’d have an easier time with that than trying to drink out of a regular glass. 

“S’cold.” Foggy shivered after swallowing a mouthful.

“That’s kind of the point. Your brain is going to fry is your fever gets too much higher.”

“But ‘s’cold.” Foggy’s teeth chattered and he pushed the bottle away. Matt caught it and Foggy was too out of it to notice the swiftness of his hand. “I don’t...Just a sec.” Foggy all but tumbled from bed. He staggered, slipping through Matt’s grasp and into the bathroom.

Matt waited for a moment, trying to listen to anything other than Foggy heaving the little bit he’d managed to eat that day into the toilet. When the dry heaves wouldn’t stop, he resigned himself to his fate and followed after him. 

“Foggy?” Matt flushed the toilet, holding his breath and resisting the urge to turn on the fan. “You ok?” He rubbed his back again. 

“Fffuck.” He shuddered, coughing bile into the water. “Sorry. Fuck.” The muscles stopped spasming under Matt’s hand and Foggy slumped against the wall.

“You ok?”

“I-...Matty, I don’ feel good.” Foggy whispered. Matt laughed at the understatement, stopping abruptly when he heard a sniffle that made his blood run suddenly cold. Foggy drew a hiccuping breath, rubbing at his face.

“Aw, Foggy.” Matt sighed, reaching his hand out to brush his hair out of his face and check his temperature. Hot tears rolled into his finger and Foggy tried to pull away. “Let’s get you back to bed.” 

“Don’t need help.” He protested.

“I want to.” Matt assured him. 

“Ok.” Foggy breathed, too weak to fight it. 

Matt pulled him up, half carrying him back to his bed. He could feel Foggy’s legs shake underneath him as he leaned heavily into him. He smelled sweaty and sickly, damp and musky. 

Foggy fell back into bed, hiding his face; Matt could hear the way it muffled his rapid breathing.

“I’m gonna call Student Health.” He told him. Instead of answering, Foggy sobbed quietly. “Foggy? Foggy, what’s wrong?” Matt dropped his phone and knelt next to his bedside.

“Don’t go.” Foggy pleaded, trembling hands grabbing fistfuls of Matt’s shirt. 

“I’m right here. You’re really sick, I’m just gonna call Student Health on the phone. I don’t know how to get your fever down.” Foggy’s lips were moving, but even Matt couldn’t hear what he was saying. “What?”

“I think I’m having nightmares.” He whispered, voice small and unsure.

“You’re awake.” 

“I know.” Matt nodded dumbly, struck with a rare type of fear. Fumbling, feeling actually so very blind for the first time in over a decade, he grabbed for the thermometer. 

“Take your temperature. I’m gonna make some cold packs, ok?” Opening the fridge, Matt thought for a long moment before he started grabbing beer cans, holding them in the crook of arm until he had enough.

The thermometer beeped. “It’s, uh, 105.” Foggy told him hoarsely, voice wavering.

“Ok. I’m gonna put these on you. To help you cool down. It...just don’t drink them.”

***

Half an hour later, Foggy was sleeping fitfully. Each time he moved, a beer can dislodged and Matt had to replace it. It seemed to help a little and, between the combined efforts of Yuengling and Tylenol, Foggy’s temperature started to drop. Not quickly enough for Matt, and not enough to provide relief for Foggy.

“Sorry, the Student Health Office is closed. If this is an emergency, please hang up and call 9-1-1. Stay on the line to leave a message.” Matt hung up, disgusted. He paced the floor a bit. 

“You’re making me dizzy.” Foggy told him, catching his wrist. “Slow down, ok?”

“How can Student Health be closed? It’s ridiculous. They need-”

“Matt. There’s almost a foot and a half of snow outside. Why would they want to be trapped there?”

“That’s...but people need that. It’s an important service!”

“I’m doing better…” Foggy trailed off in a coughing fit. 

“Your temp is barely below 105. That’s not good! That’s hardly better!” 

“I didn’t know you cared, Murdock.” Foggy teased gently. Matt shook his head at him.

“Of course I care.” He intended to make a joke, but his brain never got there. Foggy was important to him, Foggy always watched out for him, and now he was so sick. “How’re you feeling?”

“Honestly? Fuckin’ awful. But...I’m alive, so...that’s something.” Foggy caught Matt’s hand again and pressed it to his forehead himself. “I like this. Reminds me of being a kid and my mom taking care of me…” He was soft and vulnerable and Matt felt like he was intruding. He wanted to fix it, wanted Foggy to go back to being funny and boisterous. And caring and sweet. 

Everything Matt had known up until now, Foggy was the opposite; he was sunshine and laughter and love. 

Matt felt his eyes tear up as Foggy nuzzled against his hand and drifted off to sleep again. 

***

It took Matt a long time to fall asleep that night, listening to Foggy's feverish heart and worrying. He woke up to whimpering, the sound jarring him awake. 

"Matty? Matty, you awake?" He jolted up. Foggy was on the floor, legs sprawled out in front of him. 

"Yeah, yeah, what happened?" He kicked off his covers, sending them falling over the foot of his bed. 

"I don't know. I'm...I'm scared? Why am I scared?" He broke off in a coughing fit. "Why can't I breathe?" 

Matt knelt next to him, grabbing his arms. "Just calm down. Did you have a nightmare?"

"I use to get real bad nightmares when I was sick." He whispered back, sounding slightly disoriented and young. 

"What about now?"

"There was a dog..."

"There's no dog. We're in our room, remember?"

"It bit me." Foggy's voice was small and scared. 

"Let's get you back to bed." Foggy was limp, hardly able to help himself up. "Take your temp, ok?" 

It was 105.2 and Matt thought he might have a heart attack, right then and there. 

"I'm gonna call your mom." He told Foggy, feigning calmness. "She'll know how to help."

She answered after 4 rings. "Foggy?"

"Mrs. Nelson? Hi, it's Matt."

"Matthew? Did something happen?" He could hear her sitting up, becoming more alert and concerned. 

"Foggy's sick and his fever won't go down. It's 105, I don't know what else to do."

"Oh, dear, it's ok, it's ok. Just calm down, hold on." More rustling sounds before she spoke again. "Ok. Did you try some medicine and ice packs already?"

"Yeah. It's back up."

"Alright. Give him as much Tylenol as you can, and...your dorm only has showers...you might try to stick him in there, to get his temperature down. Not cold water, lukewarm is best." 

"Ok. Yeah, ok. I can do that." 

"He's gonna be ok. He's always been like this. I have so many gray hairs from his fevers." 

"Thanks. I'll call you with an update later." 

"Please do. Thank you, Matthew." 

Matt hung up the phone, sitting down on the edge of Foggy's bed. 

"I need to get your fever down. We're going to put you in the shower, alright?" 

"...Mkay..." Foggy nodded, hardly awake. Foggy was pliant, but weak, as Matt helped him out of bed and across the room. He stripped him down to his underwear. 

"Can you stand?" Foggy shook his head, leaning against the wall and starting to slide to the side. Matt pinned him against the wall, cheeks growing warm at the feeling of his friend's overheated skin under his sensitive fingertips. 

"Alright, you can probably just sit." The small shower stall didn't allow for much maneuvering room, but they managed to get Foggy in. 

He shivered heavily under the stream of water, trying to avoid it. It sprayed in his face and had him coughing and sputtering, half asleep and unable to stay sitting up enough to keep it from spraying in his mouth and eyes.

It would be best if it was hitting him in the torso, Matt thought. But whenever he tugged him up, Foggy slid back down, hands coming up to cover his face. He was slipping in and out of consciousness.

Finally, Matt took of his jeans and overshirt and climbed in with him.

“I’m gunna stand you up, ok? To keep it out of your face.”

“I can’t stand.” Foggy said, shaking his head and sending droplets flying in all directions. 

“I’m gonna help, don’t worry. Won’t let you fall.” Matt promised. As gently as he could, he hauled his friend to his feet. He leaned against the wall, with Foggy facing him, leaning against his chest. The shorter man’s face rested against his shoulder, fever burning hot through Matt’s damp t-shirt. Matt wrapped his arms around him securely, doing his best to bear his friends weight.

He lost track of how long they stood there. All he could focus on was the close press of Foggy’s body against his own, the slowly diminishing feverish heat. Foggy tilted his head up, nose pressing against Matt’s cheek. 

“Thanks.” He breathed, sinking heavier against Matt. 

“Feel better?”

"Better's such a strong word..." Foggy joked. Matt laughed, happiness lifting the worry from his chest. 

"You sound better.” Matt assured him. “You scared me, you know.” He whispered quietly, feeling too open admitting his secret, but also unable to keep it in. “Next year you’re getting a flu shot too.” He joked, trying to distract Foggy.

“You got it.” Neither of them moved to turn the water off. There was something that felt so safe about being crammed in the the tight shower stall, the white noise of the falling water, and the solid presence of the other. 

“Once, when I was a kid, my dad stuck me in the snow when my fever got too high.” Foggy told him. “It’ll usually go down on it’s own though, once it hits 105ish. For future reference.”

“You weren’t all there. You were freaked out.” Matt objected. “That’s not healthy.”

“I get really bad dreams when I’m sick sometimes.” Foggy conceded to the point. “But...I don’t really remember it, so that’s a plus.”

“Yeah, but I do.” Matt said before he could stop himself. His cheeks flushed red hot despite the steady splash of cool water.

“Was it that bad?” Foggy breathed. 

“It was...I don’t like you being so miserable, you know that. You’re my best friend.”

“You’re mine too.” Matt could feel the pull of Foggy’s lips as he smiled. “And as your best friend, I suggest we get out of this shower. And have some beer.”

“I’m still vetoing beer.” Matt told him, already reaching out to turn the water off.

“Screwdrivers though? Screwdrivers are basically juice.” Foggy laughed at Matt’s cross expression and he couldn’t help but smile.

***

“Let’s go, c’mon.” Only the next day and Foggy was tugging at Matt’s arm to hurry him along. “There’s 2 feet of snow outside, we’d be un-American if we didn’t go play in it.”

“You’re still sick.” Matt said, even as he pulled on his hat and zipped his coat.

“But I feel so much better.” Foggy assured him hurriedly. “You’re an excellent doctor. And lawyer. And probably lots of other things too.”

“We’re only going for a little while.” Matt told him, like he was talking to a child. Foggy rolled his eyes (Matt assumed) and nodded.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He opened the door. “Let’s go!”


End file.
